


Did I Say Too Much? I'm So In My Head

by Zee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (just a little bit of jealousy), Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, implied kurotsukki but it's p minor don't get your hopes up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee/pseuds/Zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing was, Kuroo flirting with other people was nothing new, and Kenma was used to the dull hopelessness he felt when he saw it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did I Say Too Much? I'm So In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> -Takes place during the Summer Training Camp arc, when Kuroo and Bokuto take Tsukishima under their wing. I sort of fudged things to have Kenma be watching one of their practice sessions. Also I have quite possibly messed up the HQ timeline, idk.  
> -The title is from "I Really Like You" by Carly Rae Jepsen, but honestly, for the title just imagine an endless scrolling marquee of all Carly Rae Jepsen lyrics, as I listened to nothing else while writing this.   
> -Thanks to Doxy for help with canon details and for cheering me on at 6am my time.

Kenma stayed and watched Kuroo and Bokuto and Akaashi practicing with Tsukishima until he got upset and decided to leave. He hadn’t expected his own reaction and it made him angry with himself, but mostly confused, and it wasn’t anything that he wanted to deal with in front of the others. No one was paying attention to him, so he pocketed his game and slipped out quickly. Kuroo would notice, of course, but he didn’t pause the practice; he’d probably figure that Kenma had beaten his level and gotten bored, which was the excuse Kenma would give him later.

Kenma hadn’t beaten his level. Kenma had died in his game because he’d lost himself in watching Kuroo and Bokuto and Tsukishima. Then he’d gotten upset, abruptly. As he started the walk from the school gym to the bus stop to head home, he puzzled out why.

He was used to the way Kuroo behaved around Bokuto. It rarely annoyed him these days, though it was sometimes exhausting. Kuroo had many sides, and with Bokuto he displayed a side that was boisterous and cocky, often silly, always loud. It wasn’t the side that Kenma preferred, but he didn’t begrudge its existence. Kenma could remember a time before Bokuto--he’d known Kuroo for so long that he could remember a time before just about everyone--and Kuroo hadn’t had anyone who encouraged him in that particular way, before. It was probably good for him, it seemed like it was good for him. 

Kuroo had only recently befriended Tsukishima, but it was already clear that Kenma would now get to remember a time before their friendship, just as it was clear that Kuroo was starting to display a side that seemed to be specific to Tsukishima. The side that Kuroo displayed for his new friend was cocky, similar to his Bokuto self, but it was also sly and flirtatious and almost mean. Tsukishima didn’t seem to mind the meanness, from what Kenma had seen. Each time Kuroo goaded him, he’d raised his eyebrows and set his shoulders and stayed for the challenge, stayed when he could have rolled his eyes and left.

Kenma pulled his hood up over his head as he walked, absently tugging on the hoodie’s drawstring to scrunch the hood tight before he let it loose again. It was chillier than he’d realized, especially since his hair was still damp from his post-practice shower. If he’d been walking home with Kuroo, as had been the original plan, Kuroo would probably have put an arm around his shoulders and rubbed warmth into him.

Kenma wasn’t going to be able to stop ruminating about this until he’d figured out the hows and whys of his emotional reaction. The thing was, Kuroo flirting with other people was nothing new, and Kenma was used to the dull hopelessness he felt when he saw it. Kuroo had dated girls, and had made out with a boy once at last year’s Interhigh. He’d told Kenma about it afterward, in a voice that was a little bit awed and almost afraid, confessing that he’d had thoughts about guys before but nothing very specific, and then suddenly there’d been this guy and an empty training room and things had just _happened._

Kenma had reacted visibly and obviously at the time. His hands had tightened in his lap, and though he’d quickly relaxed himself he still wondered if Kuroo had noticed. He probably had, Kuroo noticed a lot, but it seemed unlikely that he’d attributed the tension to romantic feelings on Kenma’s part. If he’d reached that conclusion, well, he wasn’t a coward like Kenma: he would have said something.

Kenma had lived with these feelings for as long as he’d been aware of his own capability for sexual attraction. Possibly longer--Kenma couldn’t actually remember a time before he’d been in love with Kuroo. At first it had been childlike, but it had morphed into something else a long time ago. 

Kenma did remember when he’d realized, consciously and clearly, that he would never be able to say anything to Kuroo, never be able to make a move. It had been 8th grade. Kuroo had been sleeping over at Kenma’s house, and hours of video games had turned into sleepy conversation at three in the morning. Kenma could no longer remember what they’d been talking about, but he did remember the way the conversation had lulled, the silence stretching out. He remembered that he and Kuroo had been looking at each other; he remembered how conscious he’d been of the darkness in the room and the way it’d made Kuroo’s face hard to read.

Kenma had thought, _I have a crush on you._ And then he’d thought, _I can’t say that. I can never say that._ And like that, it was decided. 

Watching Kuroo flirt with Tsukishima with Bokuto at his back, egging him on and boosting his confidence, was the first time Kenma had observed Kuroo with a guy first-hand. And maybe that was what had first upset him--which was so stupid that Kenma’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but if it had been _just_ that he would have been fine. Instead he’d looked at Kuroo and Tsukishima and for some reason, they had made him think about next year, when Kuroo would be gone.

Kuroo and Bokuto would probably go to the same university, and he and Bokuto would make great wingmen for each other. Kuroo would flirt, and do more than flirt, with plenty of people in places where Kenma couldn’t watch it happening. He would live his whole life away from Kenma, and meanwhile Kenma would be here, still playing volleyball as if that was something he’d ever had any desire to do without Kuroo there to motivate him.

Probably Tsukishima had made Kenma think of this because Tsukishima was new, and university would also be new. Or maybe it was because Tsukishima’s height and demeanor made him seem like he could be a third-year already, giving the impression that he’d be going off with Kuroo and Bokuto when they left in just a few months.

So, there: that was it, that was the troublesome wave of emotion dissected and explained. It made Kenma feel slightly better, in that he was no longer confused. He’d arrived at the bus stop, and he’d been walking quickly enough to raise his heart rate and sweat a little, so he was no longer cold. This bus came every twenty minutes, which meant he wouldn’t have too long to wait.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Kenma closed his eyes and thought about ignoring Kuroo, but he felt masochistically curious about how things were going with Tsukishima. 

His phone was continuing to vibrate--a call, not a text. Kenma fished out his phone and answered.

“We’re already done here,” Kuroo said without preamble. He was breathing hard, probably having only just wrapped up. “You must be close to the bus stop, right? Will you wait for me so we can take the bus home together?”

“I’m at the bus stop and the next bus will be here in ten minutes.” It might be true. “I don’t want to wait another twenty minutes after that.”

“I’ll run the whole way there,” Kuroo said. “I’ll run right into your arms.” And this was the side he sometimes showed around Kenma: joking yet somehow simultaneously assuring, warm, making every word a promise. It wasn’t flirtatious because he actually meant the ridiculous things he said.

Right now, Kenma hated the way it made him feel. Hated his own pathetic gratitude. “Get here in ten minutes.”

He checked the bus schedule after hanging up. The next bus would actually get here in nine minutes. Kuroo really would have to run the whole way, and it was still unlikely he’d make it.

Part of Kenma would happily wait for the next bus regardless, would let as many buses pass him by as was necessary, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen to that part of himself tonight. He wanted to get home.

Kuroo arrived eight minutes later. Kenma let himself stare as Kuroo bent over, chest heaving, too winded to talk. He had the straps of his gym bag slung over his shoulders like it was a backpack.

“You sprinted,” Kenma said.

Kuroo held up a finger, indicating that he still needed a moment before he could talk. His hair was damp with sweat. Kenma folded his arms and looked down the road, watching for the bus.

Finally Kuroo stood all the way up, still panting. “I sprinted,” he said, needlessly confirming Kenma’s observation. “I wanted to go home with you.”

The words made something twist in Kenma’s stomach, but he repressed the feeling fast; it was easy, he’d had lots of practice. “I didn’t mean to cut your practice short.”

Kuroo waved a hand dismissively. “I was ready for it to be over. Tsukishima had lost interest, and it was turning into just another opportunity for Bokuto to show off.”

“For only Bokuto to show off,” Kenma said blandly. Kuroo looked at him and laughed, and a piece of his hair fell over his eyes, and Kenma looked away again.

“I was _teaching_ ,” he said, noble. His hand fell on Kenma’s shoulder. “Sorry that we bored you.”

Kenma glanced at him. He opened his mouth to say that it was fine, but what came out was, “I wasn’t bored. I was upset.”

Kuroo’s concern was immediate, his handsome face pulling into a frown, his hand becoming heavy on Kenma’s shoulder. Kenma’s thoughts raced, trying to chase down something to say that wasn’t the truth--why hadn’t he agreed that he’d been bored? Luckily, the bus turned the corner onto their street, and Kuroo looked up from Kenma as headlights illuminated his face.

Kenma slipped out from under Kuroo’s hand as they boarded the bus. It wasn’t as crowded as Kenma had hoped, and it would be weird and out-of-character for Kenma to voluntarily take a seat close to other people instead of heading to the vacant back of the bus. So he walked down the aisle to the back with Kuroo silent behind him. He still couldn’t think of a lie.

Kuroo picked up right where they’d left off once they sat down. “I’m sorry you were upset. Did something happen? Did I do something?”

They were sitting right next to each other, legs pressing lightly together. Kenma found it difficult to think and stared at the pattern of the back of the bus seat in front of him. Kuroo knew him well enough to realize that Kenma was anxious, and knowing how incapable he was of hiding it right now just made the anxiety worse.

Kuroo’s hand touched his knee briefly, kindly, an attempt to calm him down. It wasn’t Kuroo’s fault that it just made Kenma feel worse. _I can’t say it,_ he thought. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I guess it was just--you and Tsukishima. Maybe I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Kuroo sounded so sincerely confused that Kenma had to resist the urge to bang his head against the seat in front of him. “If you want Bokuto and I to help you with your blocks, you know we’d be happy to, but I don’t really think you need it the way Tsuki does.”

Kuroo was already calling Tsukishima by a nickname. Kenma’s stomach did an unhappy dive. He needed to stop talking, he needed to end this line of conversation, but he found himself doing the opposite. “I wasn’t jealous of the blocking help.”

“Then what?”

Kenma felt like his throat might seize up. “I can’t. Talk about this right now.”

“Okay,” Kuroo said easily. His hand came back to Kenma’s knee, staying longer this time, several seconds before he took it away. He handled Kenma’s anxiety the way he usually did, offering silent support but otherwise letting Kenma be. It was something he’d always been good at.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the bus ride home. Once Kenma had calmed down, he pulled out his video game, half-heartedly thinking that maybe he could beat the level now even though dying earlier had set him back quite a bit. After a while, Kuroo pulled out his own phone, texting with someone or updating his facebook or doing whatever.

The silence continued as they got off the bus, and as they walked the block and a half to their houses. When they were approaching Kenma’s front lawn, Kuroo stopped walking, and Kenma stopped too.

“Do you want to talk about it now? There’s no one around,” Kuroo said. His voice was quiet and mellow, and Kenma knew he would drop it again if Kenma asked.

Kenma looked up at him. Kuroo’s hair was falling in his face in a different way than it had been before. He was looking at Kenma the way he often did, like he was fond, like he was looking at his best friend.

_I can’t say it,_ Kenma thought again. And then a new thought, louder and somehow fiercer, somehow overwhelming: _I’m going to say it._

And then it was too late because he really was saying it: “I like you. It doesn’t have anything to do with Tsukishima, but he reminded me of it. That’s why I left.”

Kuroo’s face went blank, frustratingly unreadable. Panic tasted sour on Kenma’s tongue, and he swallowed hard. “You like me.”

Kenma nodded. It took effort to hang onto the strange surge of decisiveness that had propelled him this far. He had to keep going. “I’ve liked you for a long time. Not as a friend.”

Now Kuroo moved, and Kenma couldn’t help but stiffen, dreading whatever might be coming. But Kuroo didn’t step back or push him away. He reached up to Kenma’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. 

It was unexpected. Kenma felt very exposed, and he didn’t like it. He wanted this to be over, one way or another, he needed Kuroo to just--

“Me too,” Kuroo said. “Not as a friend.”

Kenma didn’t have much time to digest this before Kuroo was leaning down, his lips touching Kenma’s own. Kenma thought wildly of the boy Kuroo had kissed last year, and then he got annoyed with himself for thinking of that, and then he realized that Kuroo was starting to pull away. He reached up to grab Kuroo’s head and pull him back down, deepening the kiss. He found himself gripping Kuroo’s hair, holding his hair in clenched fists.

Kenma’s mouth was open and so was Kuroo’s. That was Kuroo’s tongue brushing against his teeth. Those were Kuroo’s hands on Kenma’s hips, holding him tight, as tight as Kenma held him.

They made out in front of Kenma’s house for a while. Kenma knew that at this hour, both of his parents would be watching television in the entertainment room which didn’t have a view of the front lawn, so there was no fear of discovery. But this still felt unreal and unruly, going against all the usual laws that governed Kenma’s behavior. 

When they finally stopped, Kuroo said, “Oh my _god_ ,” and “We should talk more, about this. About why we haven’t been doing this, fucking _hell_ Kenma.”

Kenma would go to bed tonight with the knowledge that he could make Kuroo’s voice sound like this. He let go of Kuroo’s hair, but let his hands rest on Kuroo’s forearms, because he wasn’t ready to let go completely just yet. “Yeah,” he said, unable to say more.

Kuroo let out a shaky little laugh and leaned in to kiss Kenma again, on the cheek this time. It dazed Kenma. He shook his head so that his hair fell back into place, and stepped back, letting go of Kuroo. “Goodnight. I’ll see you at the training camp tomorrow.”

Kuroo laughed again, like he found everything as impossible and wonderful as Kenma did. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

This made Kenma laugh, too, and when he was done laughing Kuroo was just standing there smiling at him, and Kenma found himself smiling back.

Later, Kenma couldn’t sleep. He was still breathing hard, still worked up, his body thought he had an agenda that didn’t involve sleep. He resisted for a while, and then he gave up and called Kuroo.

Kuroo picked up on the first ring. “Hi,” he said, and it sounded somehow different from every other time he’d said ‘hi’ to Kenma. Kenma wondered how this was possible, how any of it could be happening. 

“You liked me?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh. “Yeah, man. For ages.”

“How come you never said anything?”

 

“I wanted to! But I just--” Kuroo sighed, and Kenma could picture him, lying on his back in his boxers with his bedsheets bunched at his feet. He never liked sleeping under blankets in the summer, even on unseasonably cool nights like this. 

“It was hard,” Kuroo continued. “I didn’t want to risk everything. But I totally was going to tell you! I’d planned on doing it at graduation, if not before then. You know, a deadline. But you beat me to it. You’re braver than I am.”

Kenma turned onto his side and bent his knees, curling around himself. “That’s not true,” he said, smiling.

“It’s just the facts,” Kuroo said. “I can’t wait to kiss you again.”

Kenma closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to do with the way this pleased feeling kept expanding, wider and wider with everything Kuroo said. “God, Kuroo. Stop.”

“Okay,” Kuroo said. “It’s true, though.”

Kenma was smiling so hard his cheeks kind of hurt. “Me too.”

“‘Me too’ what? Are you saying you also can’t wait to kiss me again?”

Kenma groaned and Kuroo laughed, and Kuroo could have been teasing him about any number of things to elicit this reaction, but this was about kissing, specifically. When would all of it start seeming real?

“Say it,” Kuroo said when no one was groaning or laughing anymore. His voice was a little quiet, a little serious. “Could I hear you say it?”

“I’m excited to kiss you again, Kuroo.”

Kuroo went quiet. Kenma listened to him breathe through the phone. He could feel how his brain was already looking for ways to complicate this, and it wouldn’t have to search far--Kuroo was still going to graduate soon--but for now listening to Kuroo’s happiness and his own was the simplest thing in the world.

“Good,” Kuroo said eventually. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“No,” Kenma said. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“Yeah, probably,” Kuroo said. “I like you. Goodnight.”

Kenma pulled a face at his bedroom wall. It was still a little hard to say the words, but he couldn’t leave Kuroo hanging. “Goodnight. I like you, too.”

They hung up. Kenma plugged his phone in and left it on his bedside table. 

When he woke up in the morning, the first thing he thought of was Kuroo, and everything that had happened. Everything Kenma had said. He could hardly believe himself.

But last night hadn’t been a dream or a fantasy. The proof, if he needed it, was on his phone: Kuroo, having apparently woken up earlier than Kenma, had left him a series of texts, comprised mostly of emojis. Some were sweet, some were suggestive. Kenma felt his face heat up as he scrolled through.

Soon Kuroo would be outside waiting for him. They’d head to school together, just as they always did. Maybe they would kiss first, though. That was a nice thought.

Kenma had a lot of nice thoughts on his mind as he showered and ate breakfast. He’d told the truth when he told Kuroo he was excited. 

The day stretched out before him, with Kuroo at the start of it and likely at the end as well, and Kenma couldn’t care about Tsukishima or Bokuto or anyone else. Kuroo had called him brave, because he _had_ been brave. And right now, he didn’t feel anxious at all.


End file.
